Swear By The Stars

Chapter One

A/N: Shakespearean Sonnet from Romeo and Juliet in the beginning, so it's not mine. I am neither Shakespeare nor Victor Hugo so only Sylvia is truly mine :) 

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"Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! 

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night 

Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear, 

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. 

So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows 

As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 

The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, 

And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. 

Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! 

For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." 

Jean Prouvaire whispered the lines to himself as he gazed upward. His friend Courfeyrac snickered next to him.

"Fine girls, aren't they?" He whispered to the timid poet. "Most dancers I've ever met have been tipsy drinkers and eager kissers."

"Hush, now! There she is! She's the one I've told you about! I saw her in Giselle months earlier."

Courfeyrac peered over the velvet cushion in front of him. It was empty so there was no one for him to disturb. "You mean the prima ballerina with the brown hair? She is a sure beauty, no doubt, but I've never seen her about though. I reckon she's the one Enjolras had a run in with her on the streets but a few weeks earlier. He wouldn't stop talking about her."

"Not her," Jehan snipped. He waited intently for the nymph with the golden blonde hair and fair skin to come forward onstage with the other nymphs. "Her."

"Her?" Courfeyrac questioned, at first in disbelief.

"Yes!" Jehan whispered, feeling himself blush deeply. The more he watched her, the more his yearning to write poetry called. He had already written poems for about the dancing beauty, imagined what her voice must sound like, the soft feel of her skin. He imagined her to be a goddess.

Yet the romantic schoolboy did not even know her name.

"Well chosen." Courfeyrac whispered. "She is a beauty!"

The instruments had reached their final notes and applause broke out between the audience members. Jehan caught his breath as the golden-haired girl took a graceful bow. He admired only her, barely paying notice to the starring ballerina, even though she was radiantly beautiful.

The velvet curtains drew to a close with a sliding noise followed by a curt clink. Jehan sighed sadly, unsure if when he would ever get to see the girl again.

"Why don't you go and speak with her?" Courfeyrac asked. "Maybe I'll find a nice companion for myself for the evening."

Jehan shrunk, shaking his head. "I seldom ever see her, and when I do, she's on a lit stage and I'm a mask of an expression in a crowd."

"Save the eloquence for the paper. Come, I hear you can convince the ballet master to let you back if you tip him, or we could sneak backstage."

Jehan looked up at his friend excitedly, hope swelling within his chest. "Could we?"

"Of course! Perhaps we can convince him to let us back without payment." Courfeyrac adjusted his cravat and pulled Jehan behind him as they fought their way through the oncoming crowds. Courfeyrac did not bother to stop when he accidentally bumped or shoved someone, but Jehan stayed behind and apologized to each victim of Courfeyrac's clumsiness.

When they finally did approach the door, the ballet master had left his post, leaving the door free for anyone to use. "Lucky day for you, my friend!" Courfeyrac whispered to Jehan, who laughed from both excitement and nerves.

Just as Courfeyrac reached to open the door to the backstage area, it swung wide open and the face of Marius Pontmercy peek out from behind it.

"Courfeyrac! Jehan! I had no idea that you both would be here! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Anytime, Baron, but if you'll excuse me, we need to get backstage." Courfeyrac attempted to shove past Marius, still dragging Jehan closely behind him, but Courfeyrac slammed into Enjolras, who glared at him with harsh cobalt eyes.

"We have no time to dawdle, gentlemen! We are due at the Café Musain!" He pulled Courfeyrac back by the collar, who pulled Jehan back with him. "Let us not waste another moment."

"We need to let Jehan go backstage, even if just for one minute." Courfeyrac pleaded, but Marius shook his head, suddenly understanding Courfeyrac's reasoning.

"The dancers left, we saw them exit the theatre, Courfeyrac, let it be."

Jehan's heart sank. The optimism that filled him but moment ago turned into heavy disappointment. He supposed he'd have to go back to rereading romantic poetry and imagining her as the fair heroine.

He sighed and silently conceded defeat. Courfeyrac gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and whispered, "Another time, I promise."

Jehan forced a shy smile for his rambunctious friend, but the ballerina continued to occupy his mind for the entirety of the evening. She spun in pirouettes through his head as he attempted to dabble in poetry, but he couldn't force himself to focus and write more than a few lines. He thoughts turned into pathways that twisted around and led nowhere.

What would her name be? He wondered. Something beautiful and grand, like she was. Perhaps she is an Aphrodite or a Persephone, a sweet Echo or a dear Eurydice.

Enjolras would normally criticize him for not focusing on the task of revolution at hand, but nearly each young man, even Enjolras, was preoccupied by something... Or someone, as many young men would be.

"What a band of revolutionaries we make." Enjolras uttered under his breath, but he wouldn't have wanted to trade them for anyone.